On openness

 

Writing, no matter how superficial and impersonal, is vulnerable. This blog, for example, is putting a piece of myself into permanent words that will float around the internet forever. (Unless a computer guru were to decide that he or she hates my blog so much that he or she construed a way to delete it from cyberspace forever. In that case, I’d be so flattered someone went to all that trouble, regardless of the negative emotions fueling their efforts. BUT I DIGRESS)

So yes, I do feel at least somewhat vulnerable every time I hit “PUBLISH” on a post. But, truthfully, most of what I write and publish on this blog does not require much, if any, vulnerability from me. I don’t usually feel naked or terrified when I tell embarrassing stories about myself or compose ridiculous rants about my daily life.

Today I saw a little doodle that was titled “How to Make a Writer or Artist.” Next to small drawings were three subtitles, in succession:

  1. Take a person
  2. Put them in strange and isolating situations that force them to notice everything
  3. Give them a pen

According to this formula, I’m a writer. … WHAT?!? I don’t claim the title “writer,” because I don’t feel that my writing is ever vulnerable or meaningful enough. It’s not a thing of beauty or something you write down to be re-read over and over. It’s something light to skim when you’re procrastinating (see title of blog).

But I find that this limits me. I want to write things that mean something. (WOW, put THAT on a refrigerator magnet). So, I’m going to embark on the long and never ending road of trying to be more vulnerable in my writing.

According to Merriam Webster, a writer is defined as “one who writes.” AND THAT’S ME.

I’m a writer.

I will start this process of being more open by telling you that I felt like a HAH-UGE poser typing that.

Yep. Still feel like a poser.

Anyway, I think a component of being vulnerable is sharing your fears. I’ll start by offering up some of my fears in the form of questions:

Will I get attacked by a goose today? Will I accidentally fart in my gynecologist’s face during my next pap smear? Will I be a bad dog owner someday? Will an intruder shave off my eyebrows while I’m sleeping? Will I get permanent indents behind my ears from my glasses digging into my head?

I could share some deeper fears that require me to delve into the dark and colorful madness of who I am, but frankly, it’s a process so NOT TODAY, FOLKS.

I recently read the phrase: “anything worth doing well is worth doing poorly.” And I agree to a certain extent (But… maybe not ANYTHING? Like… maybe not raising children …. or performing surgery)

I’m doing this whole writing and being vulnerable thing SUPER poorly. But it’s worth doing well, so I’m gonna keep offering up my horrid attempts.

Feel free to join me for the journey.

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